As much as we'd like to believe otherwise, not everyone has the time to make their own dill pickles. Yes, homemade spears will take your summer barbecues up a notch, but we live in a world where you can reliably find crunchy and flavorful pickles in any supermarket. To make sure you stock your pantry with the very best store-bought kosher dills, Epicurious editors munched and crunched (and in some unfortunate cases, squeaked) their way through 11 different brands. (FWIW, pickle manufacturers, "squeaky" is not the look you want when aiming for a perfect pickle.)

"But Joe," you may be asking, "what makes a kosher dill pickle different from a regular old dill pickle?" Well pickle lover, contrary to what Epi staff photographer Caleb Adams believed until recently, it has nothing to do with a ceremonial blessing of the cukes. Nor does it have anything to do with dietary guidelines for how they're made in accordance with Jewish law. Kosher dills are pickles made in the old-school New York style that calls for a salt brine with copious amounts of dill and garlic. So yes, kosher dill simply refers to a dill pickle that has garlic in the brine.

What we were looking for

We gathered 11 jars of pickles labeled "kosher dill" by the manufacturer, but we did not distinguish between shelf stable and refrigerated varieties. We selected spears whenever available, since that's the kind we're most likely to buy for a backyard party. (Due to store availability, in two cases we had to buy pickle halves instead of spears.) We were looking for pickles that had a balanced taste—a sharp bite from the vinegar, noticeable garlic flavor, and not overly salty. A bit of spice was nice too, so long as it wasn't overpowering, and the overall taste couldn't veer too far into sweetness.

How we tested

We first chilled all unopened pickle jars overnight. We sliced the spears into thirds; and cut the halves in half, thus converting them into spears, then sliced them into thirds. No side dishes, accoutrements, or hot dogs were provided. It was all pickle, all afternoon. Tasters went in blind with nothing but water to cleanse their palates.

Look for Claussen in your grocery store's refrigerated section for a pickle with plenty of crunch that's also loaded with a balanced vinegary kick and a good dose of spice. They're the perfect snacking pickle—sure, they'd be great on a burger or Chicago dog, but they're just as good as a side dish (or a movie snack if you're feeling weird). Tasters couldn't quite place their finger on the spices included here: was it fennel? Star anise? Or maybe cumin!? Most pickle brands keep their ingredient list esoteric and just list "spices" instead of the specific flavors, so we couldn't confirm. Whatever's happening inside the Claussen jar, we're here for it. And, more importantly, it's here for us.

Literally half of our group recoiled at the taste of this...uh, distinct...pickle. The other half could not understand how any other pickle in the tasting could possibly top it. Frankly, I'm of the former camp and liken its flavor to the aroma of medicinal cream. Other editors, such as Becky Hughes and Emily Johnson, found the signature smokiness excitingly different from the other samples. Anya Hoffman, who grew up in New York City, said that they reminded her of "the vat of pickles you get at an old-school New York City diner." Taste them and decide for yourself.

"I'd eat it and enjoy it, but I also know it's not particularly good." This, from Anya, pretty much sums up our take on the Vlasic. This pickle tastes like the best version of the pickle you grew up eating. Sure, the interior is a little too mushy and there isn't a lot of spice or dynamic flavor, but there's a good vinegary kick, which is what you really need to complement a rich burger or barbecue sandwich. It also has a great crispness—where most of the shelf-stable, neon-green pickles were rubbery with chewy skins, these bit clean through and offered a textural resistance that made them rise to the top of the pack.

More often than not, what sent spears plummeting to the bottom was lack of snap—without it, pickles are merely salty, vinegary chew toys, AKA not delicious. A couple pickles had a sugary flavor that made them taste candied, and that is not a kosher dill's place in the foodsphere. Still others were deemed "fine" if a bit one-note. In my estimation, summer cook-outs are too few in number to settle for fine. Go big pickle flavor—even if that's smoky Ba-Tampte—or go home.

If you're gonna have the best pickle, you need the best burger to go along with it. Here's some Cooking Magic to help you out with that second part:

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